


Feverish

by SarkaS



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Common Cold, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sick Character, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 03:24:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8473567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarkaS/pseuds/SarkaS
Summary: Yuuri should have known this was going to happen. He warned Victor it was not good idea run that far with what weather forecast said, and in such light clothes. ---For annoyinglycute who felt ill but kept drawing adorable Victuri through the pain, and for hales-emissary because I blame her for the flood of feels I got while coming up with prompts for her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Text enclosed in these <> mean they are speaking in Japanese, therefore Victor can't understand.

Yuuri should have known this was going to happen. He warned Victor it was not good idea run that far with what weather forecast said, and in such light clothes. They were drenched and almost entirely frozen by the time they got back, and not even hot springs managed to drive the cold out of his bones completely. 

So when he woke up with Makkachin scratching at his door in the late morning, he knew almost instantly what has happened. Victor was still in his bed, partly asleep, partly delirious from high fever, which Yuuri discovered by touching Victor's forehead; it was so hot he could feel it few centimeters from his skin already. 

Yuuri had quickly run down where his parents and sister were already working; he rapidly explained what's happening, asking Mari to please take Makkachin out instead of them, quickly gathering anything his mother handed to him on a tray and speeding back up in Victor's room. His coach seemed completely out of it. 

"Victor?" Yuuri tried it, taking the cold compress from the tray and putting it on Victor's forehead. The Russian moaned as his eyes fluttered partially open. 

"Yuu-ri," he struggled with the name a little, wincing. Yuuri frowned in concern. 

"Does your throat hurt?" Yuuri asked, and Victor nodded slightly, opening and closing his mouth as he wanted and failed to say something.

Yuuri quickly grabbed the sachet of powder and a glass of water. "I need you to take this, okay? It should help. And you need to drink some water too."

Victor looked for a second like he's going to decline, but then he obediently opened his mouth and let Yuuri pour the vibrant yellow powder on his tongue, then give him a sip of water to make it go down easier. Victor grimaced but then gestured slightly for another sip. Yuuri gave it to him before putting the glass back down and looking critically over the scene in front of him. Victor was clearly underdressed under the thin cover and obviously shivering. Usually, that would be the right moment for Yuuri to start blushing and make his exit but he was too worried now. 

"You need more covers," Yuuri assessed in a no-nonsense tone of voice, "and put on at least a t-shirt." Victor groaned, but Yuuri didn't really stop for discussion, almost racing to his room, where he grabbed the blanket from his bed and brought it back, spreading it over Victor. Then he turned around, hoping there would be some shirt laying around so he wouldn't have to go through Victor's stuff. He was in luck, right there on the chair was the black shirt Victor wore during the training session two days ago. He turned back to Victor, this time feeling his face getting a bit warmer as he realized he has to help Victor into it. 

"Come on," he nudged his coach slightly, as Victor tried to hide under the covers. "Please, Victor," Yuuri pleaded with quiet but insistent voice, Victor peaked at him, his usually only slightly pink skin flushed deep red with fever. He didn't look happy, but he slowly raised his arms, as if they overnight doubled in weight, and let Yuuri put the shirt on, while Yuuri tried to ignore his fingers grazing the burning skin of Victor's torso. Then covering him again with both blankets and grabbing the water again. Victor turned his head away from him. 

"You need to drink, Victor. Come on, just a little sip. You don't have to drink all of it now." 

Victor did it with an expression of condemned man, making a grimace when he swallowed. Yuuri helped him by putting his hand on the back of his head and holding its weight so Victor could drink somewhat comfortably. The hair under his fingers was damp from sweat but, if that was even possible, seemed even softer. "Bolit," Victor were, and Yuuri hmmed in agreement, even if he didn't know for sure what Victor has said. But there was no other way; Victor has to drink so he could get better. Yuuri knew that much. There was a knock on the door and Yuuri stood up and crossed the room to open them. His mother was there holding another tray with the steaming bowls and few other things Yuuri didn't take with him the first time, like a thermometer for instance. She was wearing a mask over her mouth, and there was another two on the tray presumably for him and Victor. He had no idea if Victor would want to wear one, but then, he probably will not be leaving his bed anytime soon to go strolling through the onsen. He took it all from her with quiet thanks and knew she was smiling at him behind the mask. 

<"How is he?"> she asked sounding concerned. 

<"Not so good. He has a fever and his throat hurts; there might be more he didn't tell me about."> Yuuri sighed. <"I'll stay with him, so no one else doesn’t have to get sick,"> he said and found himself blushing a little. That probably sounded a bit weird? Would it be weird for Yuuri to take care of Victor? He is his coach in the end, and he's in Japan because of Yuuri, it makes sense that he should be the one taking care of him, right? 

His mother just patted his arm and told him to come for her if something changes or if Victor gets worse, and they need to call a doctor.

Yuuri thanked her with a grateful smile retreating back into Victor's bedroom, closing the door behind him with his left elbow. When he sat the tray down and looked at his coach, Victor had his eyes closed, breathing deeply. His skin was flushed and pearling with sweat, Yuuri bit his upper lip in worry, taking the now warm compress and dip it into a bowl with the icy cold water, swirling it around, then pulling it out squeezing out the moisture and lightly putting it back on Victor's forehead. He barely managed to stop himself from raking his fingers through the fringe of hair over it and sweeping it away from his eyes. He could not and should not step over the boundaries like that. Especially when Victor wasn't awake to stop him. So instead he prepared the thermometer so he could use it later, when Victor wakes up, then took one of the hot mugs and moved to the green corner sofa with his phone, sitting in a comfortable position that still gave him a full view of Victor's bed. He was there for a reason in the end. 

\---

Yuuri's head shot up from the book he was reading at the quiet moan resembling his name. Victor was laying on his side facing Yuuri; the compress Yuuri changed not even ten minutes ago slipping down from his forehead making a sad little pile on the mattress. 

"Victor!" Yuuri sprang on his feet hurrying to his coach, who watched him with clouded blue eyes, frowning a little. 

"-uri," he tried and mostly failed to say, Yuuri shushed him and grabbed the now almost entirely cold tea. 

"Here. You need to drink," he gently guided Victor into an almost sitting position, holding the cup close to his lips, letting him take only the smallest of sips. After Victor had managed to swallow about a half of the tea, Yuuri let him take a break. "Do you think I can take your temperature now? Or are you going back to sleep?" 

Victor gestured with his chin to the thermometer Yuuri was holding in his hand. Yuuri nodded. 

"Okay. Do you want to lay back down first?" A short nod. 

After helping him back down, Yuuri told Victor to open his mouth and put the thermometer in, telling him to close it again. For a second there he was almost sure something sparkled in Victor's eyes, but then he closed them and sunk more into the pillow, so there was no way to tell for sure. But it was one more evidence of how miserable the Russian skater was feeling. 

Yuuri rinsed the compress again, putting it back on Victor's head and this time failing to get a hold of himself, sliding his fingers into the silvery pale hair and pulling them from Victor's face before taking his hand away again. But Victor sighed and turned his head slightly as if to lean into the touch. Yuuri hesitated only for a half a second before going back and lightly raking through the sweaty strands. He couldn't repeat the move more than three or four times when someone knocked on the door. Then a quiet whine sounded, and Yuuri knew how that was even before he stood up. He put on the mask and took the bowl with the not nearly cold enough water, taking it with him. 

It was Mari, just as he presumed. He asked her to switch the water for him and took Makkachin's leash from her. The dog seemed unsure, and Yuuri realized it must be the masks. He thanked Mari and closed the door, pulling the mask away almost instantly. Makkachin seemed pleased at that if the wagging tail was anything to go by. The dog huffed at him once, and Yuuri scratched it behind its ears. 

He went back to Victor just in time for the quiet beep of the thermometer, fluently reaching out for it and pulling it from between Victor's lips. His coach watched him with half-lidded eyes, not even startling a little, when Makkachin jumped on the bed, nosing at his hand, licking it and then pushing its head under it. Victor managed to scratch him few times before stopping, probably mostly automatic reaction than an intentional one. 

The number was higher than Yuuri hoped it would be, he sighed. Victor looked at him questioningly. 

"Thirty-eight point four. Not good." 

"Had ...wor-se," Victor managed haltingly apparently trying to comfort Yuuri, which was ridiculous because he was not the one with a high fever right now. So Yuuri ignored it, turning to nightstand with medications on it. 

"You said your throat hurts, what else? What about the head?" he asked, glancing at Victor who seemed to hesitate but then nodded. 

"Joints?" 

Another small pause. "Little," was the answer, and it almost made Yuuri roll his eyes. That was obviously a lie. 

"Are you feeling nauseous?" At that, Victor shook his head rather - slowly and carefully. His head has to ache a lot. But no nausea, that was something at least. Yuuri grabbed one of the pills and the glass of water. "Take this one, it should help with the pain some," Yuuri held it out for him. Victor obediently opened his mouth letting him drop the pill in and then drank the water when Yuuri helped him held his head up again. "These always make me sleepy. Hopefully, they'll do the same for you." 

Makkachin on the other side of the bed whined, and Yuuri turned to him, petting his fluffy head nestled on Victor's thigh automatically. 

"Don't worry; he'll be fine. Few days and he'll be running with you again," he smiled at the dog who leaned into his touch similarly as his master did just a several minutes ago. The unashamed pleasure seemed hilariously similar for the dog and his master.

When he looked back up, Victor had his eyes closed, and Yuuri’s smile softened at the sound of deepening breaths. When Mari came back with the bowl of iced water Victor was deeply asleep again, and Yuuri after changing the compress went back to his book, Makkachin soon nestling next to him demanding ear scratching. 

\---

The day passed them in a similar tone, Victor waking up from time to time, Yuuri making him drink as much water and tea as possible, feeding him spoonfuls of rich broth with half mashed vegetables and little pieces of meat his mother always made for anyone who was sick. There were a few awkward moments, when Yuuri had to help Victor to the bathroom, not sure if he should go with Victor all the way in, but luckily his coach was determined to manage on his own. 

It wasn't until late at night when Yuuri realized he should probably go to sleep too, except he didn't want to leave Victor alone in case he would need something. Also, his blanket was on Victor right now, not that there were no other in the onsen, but... He looked at the corner sofa where he'd spent most of his day. It was rather comfortable. In a matter of minutes, he had a new comforter and his pillow on the sofa ready for him to sleep on. 

And it wasn't bad. He slept like a log, up until Victor's voice rouse him out of it.

"Kholodno... Tre-ner, ...bolit." Yuuri scrambled from under the cover only barely missing Makkachin in his haste, but managing not to step on the dog. 

"Victor?" 

The man was groaning, his covers almost completely on the ground, his face sweaty and contorted in a mask of distress. Yuuri was next to him in a second, pulling the blankets back up and covering the man as much as possible. He touched his forehead; it was still hot, but it didn't seem to be burning just as much as before. That made Yuuri breath out in relief. Victor groaned again and trashed turning around almost smacking Yuuri in the face. Then he made sound almost like a sob. "Pozhaluysta. Ya zam...ayu." 

Yuuri was at a loss as of what he should do. 

"Shh. Victor," he whispered, but that seemed to be ridiculously ineffective. A hand gripped at his forearm, squeezing, but not forcefully enough to hurt him. Another muffled sob sounded in the quiet of the bedroom, and Yuuri suddenly remembered a similar situation he was in when he babysat for Yuuko, back when the triplets were smaller and slightly more manageable. They used to be afraid of earthquakes, even the slightest of trembles, and not even those were what one would say an often occurrence in their part of the country, but one night there was one and Yuuri had to calm them down. He sang to them. A lullaby his mother sang to him, when he was a little child and afraid of, well, there was a lot of things he'd been afraid at the time. 

He wasn't sure how much he's making an idiot out of himself, but he had no other idea what to do with what looked like nightmares to him. 

<"A canary sings the song of the cradle. Sleep well, sleep well, 

sleep well my baby,"> he sang quietly trying not to think about the fact he's singing a lullaby to Victor Nikiforov, the legend of figure skating, his idol since he was twelve years old. 

<"A squirrel rocks the cradle by its rope. Sleep, sleep, sleep, child!"> Victor shuffled closer, making mewling noises into Yuuri's left knee. Yuuri had to repeat the lullaby twice before he started to quiet down, loosening his grip on Yuuri's forearm enough for him to lightly comb through Victor's damp matted hair. 

"Yuur-i..." an almost inaudible murmur. 

"Shh, sleep," Yuuri said in the pause in between verses, noting with satisfaction Victor did exactly that. Yuuri kept the whispered singing for a few more moments before fixing the covers again and then promptly passing out next to Victor's bed with Makkachin pressing his warm body into his side.

\---

"Tikho, Makkachin. Ne budi Yuuriy." The quiet sounds made him frown. What a weird dream, he couldn't understand it. Yuuri moved and immediately groaned as sharp pain shot through his neck and into every nerve in the upper half of his body. 

"Now you've done it," a quiet rasp mixed with a relatively loud 'thump thump' of a wagging tail hitting the comforter. Yuuri turned his head with a wince, his neck protesting every millimeter of that movement. 

He couldn't hold in the whimper. It transformed into an open groan of pain as Makkachin attacked his face with his tongue and Yuuri automatically tried to move his head back. 

"Makkachin, stop!" But it was too late, and Yuuri fell flat on his back groaning at the jostling of his strained neck muscles. What on earth, he'd been doing?

Oh. Right. Falling asleep in sitting position does that to a person. He opened his eyes looking straight up at Victor half sitting in his bed, holding the dog around its neck. 

"Sorry," Victor said, or more accurately croaked, his voice hoarse and much quieter than usual. That roused Yuuri a bit. 

"How are you feeling?" he asked, standing up while massaging his neck with one hand. Then he noticed there was a new tray with apparently a still hot tea, a fresh bowl of cold water with new compress next to it, and some fruit cut into small pieces. Victor noticed what his gaze lingered on and explained. 

"Your sister brought it in. And took Makkachin out." Then he smiled at Yuuri, if only with a shadow of his usual beaming flirtatious grin. "I'm better."

Yuuri hummed noncommittally at that, making his way to Victor's side, touching his forehead with a back of his hand, frowning at the hotness he still felt. 

"Need to take your temperature again," Yuuri mumbled. "Did you managed to drink something? Or eat?"

Victor's slightly amused smile turned into a grimace at that. So his throat must be still aching, Yuuri thought. 

He made his way to the other side of the bed, taking the thermometer he prepared there yesterday evening and held it for Victor to take into his mouth. 

"Yuuri," Victor gave him a look," shouldn't you be taking care of yourself a bit?" 

"Later," Yuuri told him trusting the thermometer at him insistently. Victor was not swayed, though. 

"At least eat breakfast. Shower. Brush your teeth." Yuuri blushed hard at that. He's been breathing his morning breath right into Victor's face, wasn’t he? Of course, he was. 

"I will. Just take this first," he tried to say with his mouth mostly closed, Victor chuckled, but did as he was asked. 

Yuuri almost run out of Victor's bedroom after that, stopping only for a second to grab his mask, before he bolted into his room and to the bathroom. 

When he came back - after less than ten minutes, Victor handed him the thermometer with satisfaction written all over his flushed face. Thirty-seven point nine. Not good, but better than the day before. Yuuri set it down on the tray and took another sachet of Pabron Gold, handing it over to Victor who took it and swallowed it and then did the same with the water Yuuri was holding out for him. 

"Want something for the pain, too?" 

Victor scrunched his nose - rather adorably if Yuuri could say so - and shook his head. "Don't want to fall asleep again just yet." Yuuri blinked. 

"O-okay?" He personally preferred to sleep through as much of the illness as possible when he had to go through it. "What do you want to do?" Yuuri asked as he put the glass down and made Victor lie back down, pulling the covers back up, and preparing the cold compress for him. 

"Don't know," Victor admitted, sneaking his left hand from under the covers so he could pet Makkachin. "You could read to me? Or we could watch something?"

Yuuri paused in his movements. "...we could," he nodded after a moment. "Any ideas?" 

"I don't know," Victor mumbled burying deeper under the covers. "Something you watched a lot."

Yuuri thought about it, then snorted and shook his head. "You wouldn't like it. It's my mom's favorite movie."

"Why not?" Victor protested with his raspy voice.

"It's really old. And it's, how do you call it... a historical romantic drama." Yuuri smirked, but Victor's eyes widened. 

"I love those!" 

Yuuri paused. "You do?"

Victor nodded. "Can we watch that in here?" 

"Uh, yeah," Yuuri was a bit thrown out of balance, "we have it on a DVD. You sure?" Another nod. Yuuri shrugged then. "Okay. Wait a minute, I'll bring my laptop."

I was after he brought his things Yuuri realized he's going to have to sit on the bed next to Victor because there was no way Victor should be out of bed. But Victor seemed to count with it and scooted to the side, pushing Makkachin more to the edge. Yuuri tried not blush too much as he made himself comfortable, after taking care of whatever could Victor need while they watched. 

"What's the name?" Victor asked, and Yuuri held the cover so he could read it. "The Crucified Lovers? Sounds sad."

Yuuri nodded. "It is. And it isn't. You'll have to watch."

Victor huffed at that but didn't ask more questions, letting Yuuri finish and then made himself comfortable, leaning lightly on Yuuri's shoulder. 

\---

Two-thirds into the movie Yuuri was ready to jump out of his skin. As the time passed Victor slowly but steadily collapsed into Yuuri, and then further until he ended up with his head in Yuuri's lap, hugging his knees, having Makkachin warming his back, and all but demanding Yuuri's fingers in his hair, magnanimously letting Yuuri change his cold compress when needed. It was perfect... hell. 

Yuuri's itching desire to run as far as possible collided with his wish never have to move. He knew Victor had no qualms to share his personal bubble with other people and Yuuri specifically, but this still seemed like something he should not be able to have. 

He didn't move, though. Not until the end of the credits, making the player shrink in size and reveal part of his desktop, the wallpaper being one of his last photos with Vicchan. 

Victor hummed, it sounded sleepy. "Well, that was depressing."

Yuuri smiled. "You are a Russian. Shouldn't you be used to that?"

"Yes, I am. And that’s stereotyping. Not nice. Also, we brood, then drink and move on, we generally don't stay stuck on it. There is a difference. But I still find this depressing."

Yuuri rolled his eyes because Victor couldn't see him from his position, not without moving and jostling Yuuri's caressing finger which he seemed unwilling to do. 

"I think it's accurate and timeless. People often choose love even if it means to bear scorn from society. I find it relatable."

A moment of silence. "Do you?" Victor asked in a tone all but ringing with meaning. 

Yuuri's fingers froze for a few beats, his heart rate leaping forward. But then he breathed in and out, slowly, relaxing again. "Yes, I do," he answered softly but honestly. 

Victor hummed again, not making any moves to pull away. "Good." 

Good? Yuuri blinked. What on earth that supposed to mean? Was that all he's going to say? 

"Can we watch something more cheerful now?" Victor almost whined. Yuuri breathed out, collecting his wits together, giving Victor's head a slight pat. 

"When you eat something we can." 

Victor moaned in protest, hugging Yuuri's knees closer, but it didn't take much for Yuuri to free himself, leaving Victor slightly bleary-eyed and frowning. 

Yuuri put his mask on and went down to ask his mother if she had more of the broth she made for Victor the day before. He felt lighter walking down the hall, was almost dizzy with it. He knew Victor understood what Yuuri had said, and his reaction or more of a no-reaction made him breathe more freely. He didn't even realize it was choking him the entire time up until he decided to open himself. His grin was hidden behind his mask but even if it wasn't he would be unashamed of it. 

\---

By the evening Victor's fever subsided to a reasonable thirty-seven point four degrees and his mood was gradually lifting as he was feeling better. After Yuuri had convinced him to drink more of the hot ginger tea with honey, even his throat got better, which came with an increasing chatter from the bed, while Yuuri tried to figure out how to get some training before Victor feels good again. 

"Yuuriiiii," a whine interrupted him mid-thought, he sighed. "This is boring," Victor complained peeking at him over Makkachin's sprawled body. 

"I thought you were reading," Yuuri murmured before putting his laptop aside and making his way to Victor, making him drink a glass of water, even if just to justify himself why he's listening to Victor's every whim. It is not because Victor has him wrapped around his finger. "How are you feeling?"

Victor shrugged. "Like when you asked an hour ago, better but not completely fine. But I'll be in a day or two; it never lasts long with me."

"Lucky you," Yuuri nodded while checking his forehead. Almost normal. He sighed in relief and then pinched the root of his nose; he had a headache. Probably from staring at the laptop screen too much. It happened sometimes. 

"What do you want to do, then?" he asked his coach. Victor grinned at him. 

"You could read to me."

"I thought you were bored by reading?" Yuuri frowned, confused. 

"Yes. When I have to do it. But if you will read, I can listen with my eyes closed. I'll heal much better that way."

Yuuri stared at him and his innocent expression he was going overboard with. "You... You are unbelievable," Yuuri gave up and started to laugh. "And ridiculous." 

Victor gasped in obviously fake affront. "I'm wounded. I'm nothing if not somber and elegant at all times."

"Sure you are," Yuuri chuckled. <"Loveable,"> he added in a spur of the moment enjoying the confused grimace on Victor's face, somehow managing not to blush.

"What was that?" 

"Nothing," Yuuri shook his head, still smiling. "Now, what were you reading and where did you end?"

\---

Yuuri slept back in his own room that night. There was no need to stand guard over Victor when he was on his way to full recovery so soon. Yuuri envied him a bit, because when he get sick? It was anything but fast. He hated it and always tried to sleep through as much of it as possible. 

That was why, when he woke up the next morning, didn't hold back his cursing. His mouth was dry, and his brain felt like a one huge cotton wool. He sighed and swung his legs out of bed, wincing at protesting of his sore muscles. It took him few seconds to find his glasses, and even they couldn't make the fuzziness in his vision go away completely. 

But it wasn't until after he brought the tray with breakfast and medicine to Victor, that he realized he fucked up. Because not once he himself took any medicine.

<"Crap,"> he murmured as he tripped over his feet and almost dumped the breakfast into Victor's bed. Wait. Where was Victor? The bed's empty. Yuuri put the tray down and then turned around when the door into the room opened again. His head spun, and that was it, he lost his balance and fell over on the bed, jostling his head in the process and wincing as the dull ache pulsed. 

"Yuuri?" Victor stood there, still looking little unhealthy but with his eyes as clear as ever. "Yuuri!" he exclaimed as he hurried to his side, pulling the mask away from his mouth, his eyes widening. One finger with long elegant fingers touching Yuuri's face and it took all he had in him not to sigh with content at the coolness of the touch. 

"You are burning up!" He helped his to sit up. "What's wrong?"

"Forgot... to take some medicine, too," Yuuri mumbled, wincing partially at his words, partially at the pain behind his eyes. 

"Ty tupoy! I can't believe you." 

Yuuri realized he never saw Victor angry before. Now he was manhandling Yuuri into Victor's own bed, pulling the covers over him and looking at the tray with a slight panic. 

"What do you need? I don't-" he gestured to the pills all covered in Japanese writing. 

"The golden sachet," Yuuri told him, swallowing around his tongue that fell like it swollen to least three times of its regular size. 

Victor grabbed it, ripped it open and handed it over to Yuuri. He took it and emptied it into his mouth, now gesturing for the water. Victor passed that to him, too. 

"Idiot," Victor murmured as he grabbed the thermometer and almost shoved it down Yuuri's throat, sighing when Yuuri turned to him. 

"It's okay. You'll be fine. I'll just have to take care of you like you took care of me."

Yuuri wanted to protest, but Victor shushed him and then started on the cold compress, murmuring under his breath in an irritated sounding Russian. Yuuri did not manage to stop the moan this time when the cold made contact with his skin. Victor tsked, but other than that didn't move away, just stared at the thermometer as if it held the secrets of the universe. Yuuri managed a wobbly smile around it. Maybe this time the cold won't be as bad. Everything else got better since Victor arrived, so why this shouldn't? And with that thought, Yuuri slipped into dreams, not rousing even at the beeping of the thermometer and only barely muffled foreign cursing.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> You can find the lullaby Yuuri sings here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3IUyj1ubxm4
> 
> Victor's Russian bits:  
> Bolit - Hurts  
> Kholodno... Tre-ner, ...bolit - Cold... Co-ach, ...hurts  
> Pozhaluysta. Ya zam...ayu - Please. I'm fr...zing  
> Tikho, Makkachin. Ne budi Yuuriy. - Quiet, Makkachin. Don't wake Yuuri.  
> Ty tupoy! - You idiot!
> 
> I apologize for any mistakes, Russian may be in the same language family as Czech but it's still difficult to use it correctly for me. Hopefully, I nailed it, if not please tell me and I'll correct it. Thank you!
> 
> You can also find this story here http://were-dragon.tumblr.com/post/152752186808


End file.
